Broken Nose, Broken Heart
by jensmiling
Summary: My take on the spoilers for Born this Way and beyond. FINCHEL with lots of angst!
1. Chapter 1: Look in the mirror

I have lots of updates to do, but wanted to write a short drabble based on the spoilers for Born This Way/Rumours and beyond. This might stay as a sad one shot or I might keep going.

Let me know if you like it!

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><p>Today was the worst day of my life.<p>

I broke my nose. I broke my heart.

I'm not sure which one is worse.

The pain feels unbearable; I thought I'd been through pain. Daily slushy facials? Check. Abandoned by my mother? Check. Boy troubles worth of an Emmy nominated soap opera? Check. Also, when I was seven years old I broke my right arm during a particularly horrific ballet recital. I didn't even cry and I still managed to collect my trophy (first place, naturally) before my dads took me to ER and then put in place plans to sue the organisers.

So, like I say, I've _done pain._

At first, they didn't think it was broken. I was happy to crash into him, feel the weight of him again, just for a second, that I didn't make a sound. As I sat, huddled on the floor, my nose was throbbing, all my body could focus on was the fact that _he_ rushed to my side; his face a picture of concern and worry. I thought that he'd take me in his arms and kiss me and somehow that would heal my nose and make the pain go away. That somehow the bump to my nose that he inflicted would erase all the bruises I administered to our relationship.

But he didn't. So now I'm sitting at home, trying to put down the mirror and avoid staring at the green shimmer of bruises that eclipse my face and that tape that clings to it, trying to keep everything together.

Confidence. I've always had confidence. I hear people make remarks; hear them rip to shreds my outfits, my talent, my face, _my nose. _I didn't care.

Yet today, when I stood in front of Glee, exposing my wounds (to them my nose, to me my heart) and listened as Santana repeat the same insults, all I could notice that he didn't even flinch. Didn't even almost stand up, didn't even grimace, and didn't even catch my eye and attempt to soothe the situation with an eye roll or a sympathetic shrug. Instead, he defended himself. Told Santana that he liked himself, even made a little joke at my expense about he had no flaws _apart from almost killing Rachel_. His girlfriend rubbed the edge of his shoulder, never quite as willing to verbalise her support for him as I was.

She's prettier than me. She's always been prettier me, I knew that. But I always thought deep down that he loved me anyway. I thought that maybe he even _still loved me_. Just a little.

He sat there and saw me suffer and said nothing.

That's when my heart started to break. This, I thought, will the day I remember forever.

The day I realise that Finn Hudson never really loved me at all.

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><p>Sorry for leaving it on a sad note!<p>

If you enjoyed/think I should continue, please review.


	2. Chapter 2: Lists

WOW, lots of reviews and 800 reads! Thanks guys! Here's the next chapter from Finn's perspective.

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><p>I broke her nose.<p>

She broke my heart.

Maybe we're even now?

I don't have much experience with girls- I mean both of my relationships ended when they cheated on me with the same guy, and I once totally believed I knocked a girl up without having sex. Yet, even I'm pretty sure that hitting one in the nose is not a good thing.

And cancelling your plans with your current girlfriend for the second time this week, just so you can write _another _list of reasons to decide whether you should or shouldn't get back with your ex, is probably even worse.

Yet here I am. Sitting in my room. Writing a list.

Yeah, I suck at dealing with girls.

I hate lists. Rach made me do lists when I needed to make a big decision (or decide what Pizza flavour to order). She said I should pick the side which has the most reasons to do something, then make the decision and throw the list away. Thing is, I think, as I glance at the paper, I have 22 reasons to get back with Rachel and one not to. So I do what I do every time. I write "she crushed my heart into a million pieces" 23 times on the other side of the paper, and then throw it away.

After my list writing sessions, I tend to jog around the block to clear my head (Okay, I did this once) or listen to Faithfully on repeat until I either fall asleep or my family stage an intervention (this happens a lot. It's lame).

Suck at dealing with girls? Lately, I think I just suck at life.

I decide to listen to Faithfully this time anyways. I shut my eyes, curl into a ball and remember things; just for a little while. My mom has work for another hour or so, so I figure I'll be allowed to sleep after all. Like I said, interventions are not fun.

When my family first told me they were staging one, I was kind of excited. I figured they'd found some kind of way to get into my brain via my dreams or that they were going to hold me hostage on a Caribbean island (I need to stop watching so many movies by myself). Turns out that an intervention is just my mom yelling over and over, with Kurt and Burt in the background.

My mom yells way too much. She used to be super sympathetic but now she keeps saying that if it causes this much pain being away from someone then it's probably a sign that you're meant to be with them and I should get over it already.

Sometimes Kurt will try a softer approach- he'll bring a glass of milk and shoo the others away. He thinks I need to turn Journey off before the stress interferes with his skin. He's begged me to switch it with a CD by this chick Adele; apparently Rachel's crazy about her and its theme of lost love will suit my melancholy perfectly. I don't know what melancholy is, but if Rachel's involved then it's not gonna happen. She shouldn't be listening to songs about lost love. _I'm_ the one that knows about lost love. She cheated on me because she didn't love me enough not to hurt me. She cheated on me because she didn't care.

How can _she_ be the one hurting?

Burt will join in eventually, shaking his head and trying to bribe me to come downstairs with beer. He doesn't seem to always agree with ma, but says that if you get back with someone _after_ they tricked you into believing you were going to be a baby daddy for five months, then it's _definitely _a sign that you're a total idiot.

He spends his day surrounded by car fumes: What does he know?

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><p>I cancelled on Quinn for the third time in a row today. Luckily she's so wrapped up in Prom stuff that she barely noticed. Today I'm not writing a list. I'm not allowed to write any more lists. See my mom found the last one in the trash and said if I keep writing them she's going to make an appointment with Miss Pillsbury because I might need some 'guidance'. She said it in the freaky calm soft voice that she used when I broke my leg in the sixth grade. I am not going to Miss Pillsbury. I do not need 'guidance.'<p>

So no more lists.

Today I cancelled on my girlfriend for no reason in particular. Except for that everytime I kiss her I see Rachel's face and I am this close to ripping up the stupid lame-ass prom posters with my name on that are all around school.

She said her mom was at work and we could spend the night in her room with no interruption. She said it in that sexy voice that used to make my mouth hang open. All I could think of was that it is impossible for me to sit for five minutes with no interruption; my stupid brain and my stupid thoughts.

Maybe I should make an appointment with Miss P after all.

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><p>It started in Spanish class.<p>

I learnt an important lesson: Never pick up a piece of paper if you don't want to find out the truth.

The truth sucks.

It's her nose. I know it is. I broke her nose. I did more than break her nose. I broke it so badly, that she feels ugly enough to make an appointment. An appointment for surgery that she definitely does not need. I mean, it's starting to heal already I can tell. The green has now turned a subtler, pale shade of yellow and they took the stupid tape off it, which is a good thing. Because she looked fragile with that tape on. Rach never looks fragile. And it took everything I had not to grab and kiss the tip of it to make her feel better.

I do not want her getting surgery. I'm not _letting her_ get surgery. I'll stage my own frickin intervention if that's what it takes; lie in the middle of the corridor until she agrees not to go It's not happening.

Doesn't she realise how beautiful she is? I told her a ton of times. I must of. Well I told other people a ton of times: my ma, Kurt, Puck, Sam, Santana, Quinn even. I must have told her too.

I must have told her. That shit she spouted about me preferring Santana and Quinn was crap: she knew that didn't she?

I close my eyes, trying to remember our time together. Trying to remember all the times I stood up for her against the bitches who said she was ugly, the times I told her she was more beautiful then the rest of the girls at the school. The times when I told her that those cheerleaders were nothing, compared to her.

I listen to Faitfully three and half times before giving in.

Three days. I have three days to make her change her mind.

Three days to make her realise how beautiful she really is.

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><p>Ah, poor Finn! Wish Finn could be a little more depressed in Glee, he seems pretty happy at the moment!<p>

Anyway, if you enjoyed, please review.


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